Dr. Rodney McKay walked into his quarters, his body language, with the slow, exaggerated stride rather than the normal whirlwind of movement everyone was used to with the constantly moving astrophysicist, projecting his exhaustion. He took his jacket off, groaning as stiff muscles protested. His eyelids seemed determined to close; he looked to be exerting Herculean effort to keep them open, a nearly impossible job really, considering how tired every part of his body felt. How every ounce of his being felt, for that matter.
He turned toward his bed, his eyes more closed than open, but he knew his bed was over in that general direction. He walked the few paces necessary…and slammed the toe of his foot into the bed frame. Really, really hard. His feet were sore and achy after a long day of minding the store and making sure all of the brilliant minds working for him stayed on task. The military issue boots hadn't done all that much to cushion his now throbbing toes from the bed's evil ways.
"Ouch," he heard from the far side of the room. Rodney turned to find Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard sitting in the club chair, his own stocking feet raised comfortably on another chair they had surreptitiously confiscated from a rarely used lounge. Now that they were sharing quarters they found that one chair in the room just didn't cut it, especially when they got into a hot and heavy, one-on-one, master of the galaxy challenge game of Phase 10; that sort of smack-down card playing required two chairs. Both Rodney and John had found the bed not conducive to playing cards, foremost for the long-term health of their backs, but equally bedeviling for the two competitors: they rarely managed to finish a game when one of them sat so enticingly on something that offered far greater rewards than achieving the title of Emperor of Phase 10, or Phase 10 Phenom – John's choice for the champion's moniker. One might think that the fact that the championship flip-flopped back and forth between them like a game of ping pong would make owning the title a moot point. Either way, John knew it was always a mistake to cede the job of naming things. Would he never learn?
"Fu…shi…" McKay started. He stopped himself after each attempt as he caught sight of John's raised eyebrows; he remembered their bet just in time. "Ow!" he landed on, saying it loudly and with a lot more emphasis than he seemed prepared to use for the other two words. The other two words really did a better job of expressing the point without all of the decibel manipulations. Unfortunately, they both were on the banned list. John and Rodney had recognized a need to clean up their act. They had been planning a visit to Jeannie, even before the events of the last days, though Rodney yearned more desperately than ever to get back to see his sister after what he'd just gone through. But they really needed to clean up their verbal act. Using the 'banned' words in front of Madison wasn't going to endear Rodney to the Miller household. Not that they had sworn off those words permanently. Hell no. They were great words. But McKay's relationship with his sister, though improved since her visit to the Pegasus Galaxy, remained precarious. Rodney knew he needed to show a commitment to improving his commitment to Jeannie before she could truly let him off the hook for past slights. John was coming to ride shotgun and make sure that brother and sister remembered how truly precarious life was. However, saying the "F" word in front of an impressionable little girl? Well, that would make each of them a persona non grata, let alone using dictum non grata. Or, whatever.
"You okay?" John asked as he set his book on his lap, flattening the binding on the page where he'd left off. He watched as Rodney sat down and started to untie his boots.
"I'm so tired," McKay admitted as he removed his shoe from the foot with the still throbbing toes. He gently rubbed the aching digits and then reluctantly stopped as he leaned down to undo the other shoe. "You aren't very nice to books."
Sheppard ignored the criticism. "You're not surprised that you're tired, are you? You've got like fifty labs going, running all kinds of experiments and simulations from the encyclopedia of notes you wrote down while you were super-duper genius."
"It's fifteen, not fifty, and some of these ideas have tremendous promise. Well, at least they seemed to have promise when I actually understood what I was writing." Rodney fell over on the bed, his waist, and lower back, twisted uncomfortably. He reached for the pillow at the head of the bed, groaned at that movement, and raised his head. Then he shoved the end of the pillow under his chin, but hugged most of it. That didn't look all that much more comfortable to John.
"When did you sleep last?" Sheppard asked as he rose from the chair. He placed the book on the seat once he'd dog-eared the last page he'd read.
Rodney blinked tiredly. "I hate wh'n you do th't. 's mean," he mumbled.
"Yeah, well, I'll stop doing it when the book complains. So, sleep?"
"L'st n'ght," McKay slurred. The simple fact that he was now prone – sort of – seemed to leech the last of Rodney's energy reserves right out of him.
"No you didn't. You never got to bed," John said as he undid his belt and removed his pants. "I missed you."
"M'ss'd you. Slept on th' fl'r b'hind Rad'k's d'sk," the scientist explained.
Understanding tired Rodney-speak was an acquired skill.
"An hour and a half is not sleep, McKay. That's an extended power nap."
Rodney opened one eye. "Radek's a rat," he announced.
John leaned down and rubbed Rodney's arm affectionately. "He's a good friend." The colonel moved to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth but continued talking. "Cars'n sez u need r'st," he noted as he slurped the dribble of toothpaste back into his mouth.
"Mmhmm," McKay answered.
Sheppard finished with his teeth, peed, washed his hands and face and added, "Your body needs to recover from the strain it went through."
"'m fine."
John crouched down next to his lover, his face at eye level with his frustrating partner. "No, you're not. You and Carson thought you were, but you were both wrong, weren't you?"
Rodney sighed. "I was fine," he insisted petulantly.
"For about a day, and then what happened?" The exhausted man didn't answer as he looked around the room, trying to avoid John's caring face. "You fain…you passed out," John corrected as Rodney glared at him for his almost faux pas. "You keep trying to achieve the things that you were able to do before. Carson says the farther behind you get on sleep, the harder it will be to catch up."
"I know." Rodney rubbed his eyes with his left hand. John smiled at the child-like gesture, his lover's hand a near fist as he tried to rub away the sleepiness. John took the hand in his and opened the fist, kissing Rodney's palm.
"Then why do you fight it? Why do you fight Carson? And me?"
"I'm not fighting now," Rodney replied, his answer muffled by the pillow.
John leaned over and gave Rodney a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good point. But you're not exactly ready for bed," John observed. He stood and kicked McKay's boots away. He looked at them and said to himself, "We'll have to do something about that," the boots obviously not 'broke in' enough for the Air Force man. Rodney remained laying on the pillow, breathing deeply, too near to sleep. "McKay!" he called loudly.
Rodney jumped. "See? Mean."
"I'm taking your pants off."
"'kay," the sleepy scientist slurred. John snorted and hurried with the task; he wouldn't have much trouble peeling the pants off, but he needed Rodney awake in order to get his shirt off without strangling him. He also needed to get the boneless wonder up higher in the bed so that they could both get into a comfortable spot. There was no way he was dragging a dead weight McKay up to the head of the bed, no matter how much he loved the man.
"Sit up, Rodney." His lover offered his hand to the colonel. "You're a pain in the ass," John said as he helped Rodney to a sitting position.
Rodney's face was now leaned into John's belly. He snorted and left a small drool spot on Sheppard's t-shit. "You love me anyway," he said as he nibbled through the shirt and into John's skin.
"I should get my head examined," John answered in a fake whisper. "Come on," he added as he pulled Rodney's shirt off and over his head. "Let's move into position."
"I can't wait to cuddle," McKay said, his voice soft, yearning for sleep, but the tone hinting tenderly how very much he needed Sheppard in his bed, even just for sleep. He stumbled a step or two and then plopped back down on the bed.
"I know. Me, too. No clocks. No alarms. No headsets." John pulled Rodney's off and tossed it on the table. "You're sleeping until you wake up," he instructed as he snuggled up against Rodney's back.
"I'll wake b'fore you want. C'nt help it," McKay returned, dejection and disappointment in that known fact evident in his voice.
"Maybe I'll come up with something when you wake up that will implore you to stay," Sheppard suggested as he reached over and grabbed Rodney's soft cock.
"Th't oughta work," the scientist said, the slur morphing readily to a snore.
The colonel's eyebrows twisted and then he squinted suspiciously. Had Rodney put the emphasis on 'oughta'? John shook his head and laughed out loud, and then kissed Rodney's neck, just behind the ear. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
The End.